


twenty-one guns

by annadavidson



Series: let us duel the stars (a mass effect dual au) [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Dual AU, Gen, Mass Effect AU, Mass Effect Dual AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annadavidson/pseuds/annadavidson
Summary: No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get himself clean.Prompt: Blood.





	twenty-one guns

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get himself clean. The shower’s water had long turned cold but continued to drench his body. He had scrubbed at his skin until it had turned red. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the blood stained armor he’d frantically stripped off. There hadn’t been any blood on his skin or in his hair, but he still felt as if he was soaked in it, _drowning_ in it. His body itched to be cleaned, but the more he scrubbed, the more his skin became sore, _raw._ The cold water helped sooth any pain in his skin, but it couldn’t comfort the ache in his heart or stop the flashes in his mind.

He could still hear the sound of guns firing, of bullets hitting flesh – the _thump_ of bodies hitting the ground, their lives torn from them. The sounds of his squadmates echoed in his head, hearing them as they encountered the batarians… Hearing them as they were slaughtered. When he closed his eyes, he saw Torfan. He saw blood soaking the ground, making the dirt muddy. He saw soldiers, both Alliance and batarian, lying lifelessly on the ground. He saw the surrendering batarians cut down by bullets for no other reason but revenge and mistrust.

He saw himself, standing there, too afraid to speak up against his commanding officer. He saw himself – scared, weak, _pathetic._ He hit his fist against the shower’s wall before resting his forehead against it. He tried to breathe, but the room felt like it was closing in on him, trying to suffocate him. A part of him hoped it would. A part of him hoped the rush of cold water would be the last thing he felt.

What good was he if he couldn’t protect people? He wasn’t focused on protecting the innocent – he often questioned whether anyone was truly innocent. He most certainly was not. But he tried to protect everyone. Sure not everyone deserved protecting. Some people deserved a bullet between the eyes. And sometimes killing someone was the best way to protect others. He struggled with knowing that from time to time, but sometimes the facts hit him like a stray bullet.

Still, he thought that if the enemy surrendered, they should be spared. Instead he had watched them be gunned down and hadn’t said a word. He should have called out his commanding officer. He should have challenged him. He shouldn’t have kept his mouth shut. There had been a time where he’d promised himself to never stay quiet again, to never watch cruelty strike when he could have stopped it. He had broken that promise today.

* * *

“Lieutenant Landon?” the voice of Dr. Karin Chakwas snapped him back to reality.

Max blinked, his dark blue eyes focusing on the older woman who sat across from him. It was his first day on the Normandy after following Commander Duncan Shepard and joining the crew. He had been serving under Duncan for a while now, alongside Abraham Ward, Katherine Connors, and Samantha Connors – all four of them had recently been promoted to Staff Lieutenants. He was fairly certain they were all on the Normandy at Duncan’s request. He had just gotten done meeting the second commander he’d be working under, Aaliyah Shepard, who somehow and strangely had no relation to Duncan, when he’d been requested to meet the doctor in the med bay.

It was a bit… _unnerving_ to be called to speak with the resident therapist on his first day. He wondered if any of the others had talks scheduled or if it was just him.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Chakwas, did you say something?” he smiled sheepishly, “I uh – I kind of zoned out.”

She smiled softly at him. It wasn’t their first meeting. She had been the doctor assigned to him after the… _incident_ on Torfan. He had learned that Captain Anderson had been worried he might have been self-destructive at the time, possibly depressed or even suicidal. He had admittedly been a mixture of all of the above, and Chakwas had found that out. She had helped him work through those feelings as best she could, but some of the resentment he felt toward himself always lingered, not really an afterthought, but ever present hands with their fingers wrapped tightly around his throat.

“I asked if you will be comfortable working on the Normandy,” she explained, sitting with her legs crossed.

Max frowned faintly, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You do have an – in your own words – _unpleasant_ past with two of your squadmates.”

He hesitated. “Sam and I tolerate each other. We’ve been working together under Duncan for a while.” His history with Samantha involved his time training to join the Alliance – he had also briefly met Duncan, Abraham, and Katherine there as well. But he and Samantha had also been together on Torfan. She hadn’t spoken against their commanding officer either. In fact, she had voiced support of their commanding officer’s decision to sacrifice majority of the squad and kill the surrendering batarians. He resented her for that, but he could work with her. It hadn’t been his choice to work alongside her under Duncan’s command, but he had made the best of it.

He would often throw snide comments at her which would make her laugh, though he had a feeling she knew he didn’t like her and knew why. Occasionally she would throw snide comments back at him, which he always expected. He typically didn’t insult someone without expecting them to insult him right back.

“You’re aware that you’re also working with Lieutenant Commander Sampson?” Chakwas asked, her tone treading lightly on this subject. She knew his feelings toward the Lieutenant Commander.

Max felt his body tense at the mention of his former commanding officer, the one he had failed to stand up to on Torfan. He remembered stating over and over to Captain Anderson that he never wanted to work with Mark Sampson again. He hadn’t realized Mark would be joining him on the Normandy, and he hadn’t known that Mark still outranked him. Mark could still tell him what to do.

Chakwas, of course, noticed his reaction. The way his muscles tensed, the way his fingers gripped tightly at the chair’s arms, and the way his gaze left her and settled on the wall to his right.

“You haven’t seen much of each other since Torfan,” she spoke, though he continued to avoid her eyes. “Am I correct?”

He slowly nodded his head. He felt stuck. He didn’t want to work with Mark again – he could barely stand working with Samantha. But he enjoyed working under Duncan. He felt like he made a difference under Duncan’s command. Perhaps he needed to address his concern with Duncan… But he didn’t want to burden his commander with his feelings.

“I’ll be fine,” he stated, his tone firmer than he meant it to be. He didn’t want to get transferred off the Normandy.

Chakwas looked concerned, clearly not believing him. She remembered how he had felt toward Mark after the _incident_ on Torfan. Even if she hadn’t remembered, she had the files with her. And she could tell by his reaction that time hadn’t done much to heal those wounds.

“Are you sure?” she didn’t think he was, and she was right.

His dark blue eyes fell onto her. “Don’t worry about me, Doc. After all, it’s not like I could avoid the Butcher forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like/reblog on Tumblr [here](http://magicrobins.tumblr.com/post/159743135795/max-blood).


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